


You'll Never Be Alone

by philippcarlyle



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Phil has Feelings, cuties in love, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philippcarlyle/pseuds/philippcarlyle
Summary: A sweet oneshot, following the requested:“I can’t sleep without you”





	You'll Never Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!
> 
> This work is beta'ed by my gr8test m8 @Picnokinesis <333  
> And I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title is from Shawn Mendes "Never Be Alone"

_And take a piece of my heart  
And make it all your own _

 

* * *

 

 

Finally, after weeks of hard work after the fire and a million apologies from his side, P.T. can fall into his bed with a satisfied grunt. They’ve run their first show in the tent and it had gone great. Splendid. He is immediately pulled into a deep, dreamless, endless sleep.

There’s a soft knock on the door. P.T. automatically pulls his blanket higher up to his chin to block out the disturbance.

Another knock, then a barely audible sigh. It is this small noise which gets the showman to open his eyes. He stretches – his body unwilling to wake up at this ungodly hour.

One hand rubbing over his face, the other at the door knob, he finds himself confronted with blending light. He blinks a few times, a grumble escaping his tired body: _sleep, sleep, back to bed, sleep_.

But when he adapts to the light, he is wide awake on an instant.

“Philip?”

“I – I’m sorry. Hi.” The younger man avoids his gaze, but seems determined to speak on. P.T. softly pats his shoulder and ushers him into the room before another word leaves his lips.

He doesn’t even want to know how Philip got into his house in the first place.

“Hi,” he replies. He doesn’t bother with formalities and flops down on to his bed again, his back up against the plain wall. When Philip lingers at the door, P.T. nearly rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry –“ Philip wants to start again but stops, eyes wide open, when P.T. huffs out an exasperated breath.

“You don’t need to be sorry to come to me, Lip. Never.”

“I...I know,” comes the soft reply. Too soft. Too quiet to be honest. When he continues, his voice grows even softer, even smaller. P.T. wants to get up and envelope him in a tight hug.

“It’s just...since the fire...I can’t sleep without you.”

Instead of jumping up and going for that hug, P.T. remains on his bed. Surprise, followed by realization, flit over his face. He closes his eyes and nods. _Of course._

After the fire he’d stayed with Philip. Every waking minute and when the hurt man drifted off to sleep, he asked: _“Please, could you stay? Just a bit?”_

_“Of course, I’ll be here. You don’t need to worry.”_

P.T. thought Philip only tolerated him as an anchor to reality, an anchor to this time – past the fire, at safety. A reminder of peace after the storm.

He thought – hoped – when they continued their ‘stay together’ the following nights, Philip might enjoy his company a _bit_ more. It turns out to be just that _'bit'_ better that he finds himself request for P.T. to stay again and again.

A week ago P.T. was relieved to hear that Philip was as good as healed. And devastated, when he didn’t ask again for P.T. to keep him company at night.

But here they are now.

“You don’t have to,” he replies now. A small smile dares to spread over his face and he gets up to pull the blanket back. He walks over to Philip, who awkwardly wrings his hands together. P.T. undoes their tense grip and links his fingers with Philip’s. He leads the younger man over to his bed and his smile grows wider.

“I’ll keep you safe. And warm, you know?”

“I know, you’re like an oven.”

P.T. laughs at that. He’s glad Philip can joke again, he shouldn’t feel the need to hold back with him. Not after all they’ve been through. Not after the bad things and especially not after nights of promises, cuddles and soft caresses.

“Just come here,” Philip mumbles and snuggles closer to him. P.T. lies down next to Philip, faces him and in a swift move, pulls the blanket over both of them, including their heads.

“We’re gonna suffocate,” is Philip’s only amused response, before both of them drift off to some much needed, peaceful sleep.


End file.
